Buy that girl a pint

I was reminded of a funny story last night, one I’m pretty sure I haven’t already shared.

For most of my twenties and into my thirties I lived in Hampstead. Well, I say Hampstead. Certainly I lived in NW3, which is generally considered to be Hampstead, but I lived on the western edge.

I lived in the middle flat here at 236 Finchley Road.

Walk a few steps into any side street and you’d be in leafy Hampstead. Finchley Road is a busy main road at, as I said, the western edge. Pretty sure the other side of the road was NW6, which is West Hampstead.

There are a lot of stories I could share about my time there, but for today I’ll stick with one.

For a while during my tenancy I shared the flat with my mate Giles. Although our main local was the Horse and Groom in Heath Street, we also drank regularly at the CAMRA pub across the road. For some reason I can’t remember the latter’s name.

Most Thursday evenings we’d be in the second pub, playing darts with a couple of blokes we knew. We played teams and it was generally accepted that I wasn’t very good. It was up to Giles to double us in and out. I just reduced our score by whatever I could when it was my turn. 

Okay, there are two stories involving darts.

The first was the night when Giles and I were down to 32 and could win the game with a double 16. All Giles really wanted was for me not to leave him with double one as his only option. But I’d just started on my third pint and for some reason that was generally the point when my aim improved. (Don’t ask me, but it’s true.) So I tried to focus, tried to actually aim. My first dart hit the board just outside the wire on the double 16. My second dart was right on target. Everyone involved was astonished, no one more so than I was. Giles was so amazed, he lifted me up on his shoulders and marched me around the pub.

And now here’s the other story. It must have happened some while later, because my aim had improved a fair bit. It was early in the game and I was just aiming for some twenties. This is what happened.

Yes! A 180! Highest score it is possible to get in darts! A cheer went up – not just from Giles, but also from our opponents. And then behind me I heard a voice say, “Buy that girl a pint!” I turned around and, fuck me, the voice belonged to none other than Ray Davies, who did indeed buy me a pint. And, no, I didn’t gush. I just took the pint, said “Cheers” and went back to the game. (Okay, when I got back to the dart board, I did whisper to Giles, “Oh, my god, it’s Ray Davies”, but he’d already clocked that.)

No idea who Ray Davies is? Shame on you. Well, if you really don’t know, he was the driving force behind the Kinks.

Which is what reminded me of this story. I was watching an episode of Funny Woman last night and this was included in the show’s soundtrack.

Because, of course, every time I hear a Kinks song I immediately think about that pint.

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PS Checked with Giles (yes, we’re still in touch). The CAMRA pub was called the Nag’s Head. (It no longer exists as a pub. Neither does the Horse and Groom. Sigh.) He couldn’t remember the names of the blokes with whom we used to play darts either.